


Forgetting

by bodhirookandor



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: another fic from bodhi week!, im sorry this is so sad lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 22:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10818114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirookandor/pseuds/bodhirookandor
Summary: Bor Gullet has lasting effects





	Forgetting

**Author's Note:**

> This is so sad wtf.

His mother had brown hair, and kind brown eyes. She went to the Temple every Friday, wore her belief around her body like woven silken and colorful hijabs. She breathed love and compassion, wrapped them up in safety and protection. She was fierce, kind and passionate, and instilled that within him and his sister.

His mother was everything. And he couldn’t remember her name.

Bodhi crouched down behind his ship, a stream of profanities leaving his lips as he tried to remember, tried to remind himself of what his mother’s name was. The knowledge that he couldn’t, that it wouldn’t manifest in his mind cut into him. It hurt. Dear God, it hurt.

* * *

_“Bodhi, what am I going to do with you?” his mother asked, mouth set in a firm line even though her eyes twinkled with mirth._

_“It’s not my fault,” he said, channeling a ferocity that he’d seen in her from time to time, “they said terrible things about you mama, and I wasn’t going to let them keep going.” His mother smiles, and it’s so soft and warm that Bodhi finds himself smiling.  
_

_“Oh Bodhi, my sweet, sweet child,” she grins and finishes wrapping his bruised knuckles, “try working on dodging next time.” The two of them laugh, warm and safe in their own little bubble.  
_

_Bodhi vowed to never forget the way his mom’s eyes twinkled like starlight._

* * *

Bor Gullet ripped into him, invaded him on a personal level and Bodhi thought that was the end of it. Thought that the never ending pain that surrounded him in that cell was the last of it. But he was wrong. So very wrong.

It started off with little things. He’d forget the name of his neighbor, the name of a street corner. He’d forget call signs, have to write them on little sticky notes on his ships. He worked his way around each one of them, told himself that as long as he could remember the important things, it was okay.

But then he started to forget bigger things. His mother’s favorite dish, his sister’s stories, songs they’d used to sing to each other, late at night when no one could sleep. He’d forget and it hurt him on a fundamental level. It felt like he was failing them, failing them in ways he told himself he’d never again do.

* * *

_Asha laughed, head thrown back, carefree in a way he hadn’t seen in what felt like eons. She began talking, hands moving animatedly as she described her day’s adventures._

_“And then, when I thought I’d been found out, this girl came out and saved me! Can you believe that Bo?” His sister asked, eyes bright with delight. Bodhi waggled his eyebrows.  
_

_“ooh, a girl came and saved you?” Asha laughed and Bodhi let his smile grow into a grin.  
_

* * *

He drew them. Over and over, wanting to burn their faces into his mind. He wouldn’t forget them. He _refused_. Bodhi never wrote their names. Told himself, over and over again, that at least he wouldn’t forget _that_. He chanted that promise constantly, holding it deep into his heart. He never wrote their names. 

And now, his own mother’s name lost forever from his mind, Bodhi gripped his hair and screamed. He couldn’t stop, cursing himself over and over again. He grabbed a pen, and shakily wrote the only thing he could remember.

Asha Rook.

He swallowed down his cries.

* * *

_His mother held late night meetings. Ladies from around the town would congregate in their living room, whisper things to each other, talks of rebelling, of protesting. They’d take turns comforting and being comforted in turn._

_Bodhi and his sister weren’t supposed to know._

_He asked her one day, curious and more than a little scared, if she was part of the rebels. His mother stopped what she was doing, moved away from the stove and crouched down next to him and Asha._

_“I am not a rebel, no” she began, holding him and his sister close, “I am fighting only for Jedha, for you two, for your father. I cannot sit by and watch them do terrible things to my home. I am doing what’s right.” Bodhi closes his eyes and nods.  
_

* * *

He went to Chirrut, eyes red and body screaming with exhaustion. 

“Is there a way to regain memories you have lost?” He asked, voice rough and hunched over. Chirrut took his hands and sighed.

“We can try meditation, but Bodhi. I’m sorry, you may never get them back.” Bodhi swallowed and nodded, having already known the answer. He sat down and began to meditate under Chirrut’s instruction. 

Bits and pieces came and went, moving with the flow of a tide. Some days he’d scream, and rage, words spilling out of his mouth like molten lava. Most of the time he was quiet, mouth shut even as his heart burned. 

He never remembered his mother’s name.

* * *

_“Happy birthday, Bodhi!” Asha whispered, jumping onto his bed and laughing at his noise of complaint._

_“Asha, the sun hasn’t even woken up.” Bodhi complained, turning over and burying himself into his pillow._

_“Let’s go watch the sunrise together!” Asha exclaimed and Bodhi, who could never deny his sister anything, rose and followed her. They clambered onto the roof and watched in silence, as the sun began to break over Jedha._

_“I want to explore that some day,” Bodhi whispered, turning and smiling at Asha, “I want to explore all that space has to offer.” Asha smiled, eyes crinkling even as her fingers fluttered along the cuffs of her sleeves.  
_

_“I’m sure you will, Bodhi. I’m sure you will.”  
_

* * *

“Bor Gullet was supposed to make you lose your mind,” Cassian asked, confused and worried. Bodhi smiled, hallow and defeated. His grip of he drawings in his hands tightened and Bodhi let them go for fear it’d rip.

“I almost did. But then the most amazing man asked me a question and I couldn’t not answer,” it was supposed to be a joke but Cassian was still looking at him in concern and his eyes (dear fuck his eyes) warmed with his worry.

“Bodhi,” he whispered, hand cupping Bodhi’s cheek, “it’s okay to cry.” And Bodhi cried. Sobbed as his soul screamed in anguish. He’d lost so much, let so much of himself go. He passed out in Cassian’s arms.

* * *

_He hugged his mother, whispering promises of coming back to her, even though they both knew the truth. The imperial insignia on his burned with that knowledge. She let go of him, wiping her tears and mustering up a smile, even though it didn’t reach her eyes. Bodhi offered a half smile in turn. He looked to his sister, walked up to her, his arms open. She took a step back and with a swallow he nodded._

_“Bodhi,” his mother began. Bodhi turned to her and almost choked at the raw honesty and anguish shining in her brown irises. He had to stop himself from collapsing in her arms, had to tell himself that was he was doing was right. That there were no other options.  
_

_The justifications tasted like sand in his mouth._

_“Bodhi,” his mother repeated, “do what you think is right.” Bodhi nodded and walked away from her.  
_

_He burned two of his five imperial regulated uniforms._

* * *

Bodhi told the others everything he could remember about his family. He told them about a father he barely remembered even before Bor Gullet, but whose memories hadn’t been touched by the monster’s slimy hands. He told them about his mother, whose breathed love and compassion, whose entire presence burst with warmth. He told them about his sister, whose passion ran hot like molten lava, who was unafraid and unapologetic of who she was, who held her vulnerability close to her chest so only her family could see. Bodhi kept talking, even as his voice turned rough and brittle, even tears formed in his eyes and his lips couldn’t form certain words. He kept talking, stopping abruptly as he came upon something else he couldn’t remember. He cried and laughed with them all, sharing stories of his sister and mother with a family he’d recently gained.

Later that night, alone under the night sky, Bodhi hummed bits and pieces of what he could remember were his mother’s favorite songs. He never remembered her name, the name of the woman that raised him, who sacrificed everything for him and his sister. He never remembered her name, but he could remember the way she looked like, the way she would laugh if she heard something particularly funny. Bodhi never remembered her name, but he remembered who she was and he told himself that he was okay with that. 


End file.
